


In which Five gets hugged

by ClaraCivry (Kat_Of_Dresden)



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, Gen, Number Five | The Boy Has Issues, Number Five | The Boy Needs A Hug, Number Five | The Boy has PTSD, Number Five | The Boy-centric, Protective Klaus Hargreeves, Timeline What Timeline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:27:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25732105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kat_Of_Dresden/pseuds/ClaraCivry
Summary: A place for some Five hurt/comfortBecause he's been through so much. He deserves a rest and some hugs.1. Five has a dream/flashback that the commission is back for him. Klaus helps.2. Five overhears some rude comments about him and gets oddly sad. Ben makes it better.3. Five is having a very bad night - all he feels hurt. Vanya is there for him.4. The handler comes back, in a way. Diego fights Five's demons, and then offers some comfort5. Five gets lost in a flashback. Vanya tells him something she should have said long ago.6. On the anniversary of the day he went missing, Claire tries to make it better for her uncle
Relationships: Claire & Number Five | The Boy (Umbrella Academy), Number Five | The Boy & Klaus Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy & The Hargreeves (Umbrella Academy), Number Five | The Boy & Vanya Hargreeves
Comments: 42
Kudos: 783





	1. Chapter 1

He had nightmares - lots of them. Five barely remembered what it was to have a peaceful night since before he got stuck in the apocalypse. 

That was, in a great part, how he ended up developing such a taste for coffee and alcohol: coffee postponed the need to sleep, alcohol often promised you a dreamless night. Eventually, his mind connected coffee with not sleeping and decided that it was the best thing ever. 

Because it started with nightmares, but it didn't end here. At least nightmares you woke up from and nothing bad had happened, but sometimes... Sometimes he woke up and was somewhere, having sliced his arm because he thought there still was a tracker from his commision days, or he was holding Dolores from the neck because he thought she was dad that had come to punish him. For all it. 

To be honest, all his life had been a giant nightmare: living with dad and the rest of them had never been easy (training, competitions, all that responsibility), then it was the apocalypse (the loneliness, the hunger, that increasingly difficult fight against insanity) and the commision (losing his will, killing people, feeling so trapped and wrong). And then trying to save the world... Well it hadn't been an easy ride, either. 

So yeah, while he kept going, while he was distracted with something else, he could keep going (this body provided, at least, an increased amount of stamina, which was welcome) but the moment he lowered his guard, the moment he closed his eyes, all those horrors he kept locked made themselves present. 

He locked himself in his room, to avoid the sleepwalking, to avoid the "incidents", but sometimes... Even with all the precautions it was hard to manage. Sometimes there was odd noise and all of Five's senses went on overdrive. There hadn't been odd noises in the apocalypse. There hadn't been Allison taking a shower, there hadn't been someone taking a call. 

So when there was an odd noise... 

It meant that the commision had come to get him. Again. 

He was there in there in the rubble, and the commision came to warp his life and make him do things he didn't want to. Again. 

His mind got clogged.

He couldn't do this. He wouldn't let them. 

  
Not again. 

  
*

Klaus was eating some ice cream while rumbling around the mansion with Ben, at three am, wearing nothing but pink gym shorts, when he heard some odd noise from Five's room, like someone falling. 

"Should we check?" Klaus said. He didn't want to accidentally wake his irritable brother up, but it had sounded like a bad fall. 

"Maybe he hurt himself. I'd go." Ben answered. Klaus sighed. 

He didn't know what he expected when he opened the door (maybe a grumpy Five in those stupid school pyjamas, scowling after having slipped from the bed, or scowling after falling when he was writing more of those equations on the walls...) but it hadn't been what he was looking at. 

Five was sitting against the back wall, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, a wild look in his eyes and his shirt and shorts looking all wrong, sweaty too, wrinkled, iut of place. Five would never let himself look like that. But he wasn't all there, was he? 

Despite his big eyes being open and bright, it was clear that Five wasn't really awake, or at least aware of his surroundings. He had one of Diego's knives in his hands and was swinging it. 

Shocked by that, Klaus dropped his bowl of ice cream and Five directed his knife at him. 

"You won't take me again, do you hear me! You won't."

Klaus didn't like this. 

"Five? Where have you gone, buddy?"

".. not your puppet... You just... I escaped, I did, you won't take me again, you can't take me again...."

Tears were getting mixed up with sweat and Klaus knew he had to do something. Five was in the middle of a flashback, or a hallucination, or who knew really what, but apparently he thought that the commission was going to get him again and he was getting really worked up about it. 

Klaus wasn't going to let him suffer like this. He knew what it was, feeling trapped in the worst parts of the past and he was not going to allow that kind of agony on poor Five. 

He was not. 

He just walked up, a tentative step, put his hands in front of him.

"Five? Five, look at me. It's Klaus. Remember me? Klaus. I'm not dead. You saved me."

Five was still swinging the knife. 

"You can't get me!" Five screamed "I won't let you get me again."

And now he had closed his eyes, and put the knife on his neck. A trickle of blood - they were running out of time. 

He had a knife to his neck. they wouldn't get him. Jesus christ. Knowing that just throwing himself at the kid to try and get the knife would do more harm than good, Klaus just kept talking, using a calm voice, trying to get his brother back. 

"Five, Five, hey, open your eyes, look at my hands. Just look at my hands, I will not take you, just tell me what it says on my hands."

Five opened his eyes for a moment, and even though the knife was still in his neck, his eyes were a tad more focused now. His breathing still laboured but not too fast. 

"Hello... goodbye..."

"It's me, Five, it's Klaus, it's not them."

Five hesitated. 

"Look around you, Five. Look at the bed, look at the chair. You're home."

Was he? 

"It's...tuesday, I think. Three in the morning- Look at the floor, do you see the floor? I dropped my ice cream. Look at it, Five." 

Ice cream. Carpet. Room. 

"And look at my hands. It's Klaus."

Five put down the knife (thank heavens!) and looked. His breathing was starting to slow down more.

"Klaus?" 

"It's me. It's Klaus. We're home. And I am here because you escaped them and you saved me, saved all of us. They won't take you again. I won't let them. Neither will Ben."

"Ben?"

"He's here. With his stupid hoodie and his stupid face. He's very worried about you. He wants you to let go of the knife, he wants you to know you're safe. That we'll make sure you're safe."

Five breathed many times. Tried to understand. Tried to come back. 

"Hello... goodbye..."

"It's me, Five. It's Klaus."

Five blinked. Once, twice, a lot of times. Focused on the figure in front of him. 

It was not them. 

They weren't here. 

He was in his room, in the mansion. No one was trying to kill him. No one was trying to take him. No one was dying. It was just Klaus. Just Klaus and Ben, big eyes and otherworldly good advice. 

Five let go of the knife, that fell to the floor with a small sound. 

He looked in front of him... 

"Klaus...."

What Klaus did next could have gone spectacularly wrong. If he'd stopped to listen to Ben, he probably would had asked him not to do it. But he felt that what Five needed right now was actual physical proof of what he was being told, and since he, (hello-goodbye-Klaus) was the element that was grounding him the most... He slowly but without stopping crouched in front of Five and hugged him. 

"Klaus..."

"You hold on to me, Five."

"You're here."

"I'm here, I'm alive, we're home."

Five buried himself deeper in his brother's chest. He was alive. 

"They aren't going to take you. Never again."

Five found himself sobbing on Klaus' bare chest, not completely aware and awake, but somehow knowing he could breathe. He could let go, he could... live. 

It took a while for him to stop crying. He held on to Klaus for minutes, while his brother made shushing sounds, ran a hand through his hair. It was... good. Maybe necessary. 

After a while, he was fully awake and let go, tried to clean his head.

"Sorry, Klaus."

"There's nothing to apologize for." Klaus was serious. There was no joke, no fun comment. "You went through a lot of shit, and it gets to you. Trust me, I understand. Do you know what started it?"

Five nodded, trying to put some order in his clothes. 

"Noise. Downstairs."

"It was Diego, being pissed about something." Ben explained. 

"Damn Diego and his hissy fits." Klaus added. "All right, here's what we're going to do, yeah? We're going to send flyers or something to avoid loud noises if at all possible. Someone more sensible, like Luther maybe, would take your knives and other weapons so wouldn't hurt yourself or anyone else, but I feel like you would probably feel even more unsafe without that."

Five was so thankful for Klaus not being too sensible. So damn grateful. 

"Oh, yeah." Klaus said. That was a good idea. "Ben says he can watch over you, when you sleep? If things get ugly you can't hurt him and maybe you'll sleep better knowing a super-powered ghost is looking out for you."

Five finished cleaning his face. 

"Thanks, Ben," he said, and meant it. 

"He says any time."

"And thank you, Klaus... It was... Well, it hasn't been this bad in a while. I... If it wasn't you..."

"Glad I could help." he smiled, glad this had had a happy ending. "Bring it in again?" he said, opening his arms widely. 

"Klaus..."

"For me?"

Five half smiled. For him, he would. 

"All right."

And now they were hugging again. 

"No matter what happens, you got us now, ok? You're not alone any more. And I will look after you - even when you make me drop my ice cream."

Five just lost himself the hug, the horrors of the night fading thanks to Klaus' warm voice. 

"You'll be okay, we'll keep you safe. No one will take you again."

Not while they were there. 

Not again. 


	2. Chapter 2

He thought he was better than this. An apocalypse survivor, time-travelling assassin, child genius. He had survived a myriad attempts on his life without barely a flinch. Without ever complaining. He'd managed years of terror, horrors he'd lived himself and inflicted on others. He'd done that. And he had managed it and then he had saved the world and he had saved the whole family... 

And now he was sitting on the windowsill on their giant library, all stupid limbs and messy hair, and his head was on the wood behind him. A couple of tears running down his cheeks, for the first time in so long. Five didn't want to be crying, but he was. Stupidly. Breath hitching, stupid water droplets falling down.

He was supposed to be better than this. He wasn't supposed to break over something so small. And yet... He couldn't focus on any books, he couldn't leave the thoughts out of his head. 

It hadn't been anything important. Just some off handed comments about how they had a fun night, Vanya adding that maybe they should have called Five, Luther and Diego mentioning that they had fun because Five wasn't around. Followed by some light hearted bashing of their brother. How he didn't know how to lighten up. How he was always a buzzkill, never had anything interesting to say, only reminded them of shitty times. How they were awkward around him, how they would find ways to avoid him because he was creepy. 

It shouldn't have meant that much. Five was used to being insulted, he'd been so all his life. He had learned that when someone was nice to him, he had to be suspicious, had learned that no one in the world actually liked him. He was somber, he was haughty, he was boring and arrogant and there was really nothing good about him. 

And yet, evwn if he knew, it still stung. He fought all of that to get back at them, to finally get his family back... And they didn't want him. He'd saved their lives, hoping to get them back, to have someone, only to have them laugh at them behind his back. 

Now there was people all around, and yet he'd never been so alone.

More tears. He had a bottle of whiskey in one hand, but hadn't drunk much. It never helped, if he was honest. Not enough. Maybe he should ask Klaus about stronger stuff. 

He was useless, wasn't he? Without the mission, he had no place. A burden. A stranger wearing the face of someone they used to share meals with - never someone they actually cared about. He'd deluded himself into thinking that... That what? That his siblings would welcome him, make him feel like he had a place there, a home? 

He never had. He belonged nowhere. 

And nobody fucking liked him. 

"That's just not true."

Five was startled, and dropped the bottle on the floor. Who...? 

"I like you."

Ben was suddenly in front of him, sitting on the opposite side of the windowsill. Five scoffed. Didn't even question how he was seeing his dead brother, probably just him escaping non-corporealness and Klaus for a bit. Good for him. He was still wrong. 

"You're dead. The others probably think I am responsible somehow."

Ben seemed worried. 

"You're not. Five, you're not."

"You're still dead. And you're only saying that you like me because you're too nice for your own good. I'm impossible to like. I will always be alone, unloved..." 

"Five, you're not alone."

"But I am."

"Five..."

"The only person that ever tolerated me was a figment of my imagination."

"FIVE!" big blue eyes looked at his not so ghost brother. "Can you listen to me for a moment?" 

Five let out a couple more tears, lower lip wobbling. Great, now he'd upset Ben and was going to break down like a little girl. 

"You are complicated to like, you know that, right?" Ben said. "But you're not hopeless. Luther and Diego were being idiots back then..."

"No, no, no, they were being honest. I'm not... fun."

"Five, you've been through a great deal of shit, that those assholes we call brothers probably won't ever understand, or maybe even fully believe. But they don't dislike you. They love you, even if they seem to be having a hard time remembering it."

Five just shook his head. 

"They couldn't care less about me. Sure, they'd mourn me if I was gone, but, while I'm here... They avoid me. I don't want to have to change everything about me to have my own family tolerate me."

"Five..."

"All I wanted... was not to be so alone, you know? Help you guys. And yet..."

"You did. You helped us - you put your own life on the line for us, and I'm not forgetting that. But that's not the only reason why I like you. You are fun, even if it's in a dark sarcastic twisted kind of way. Some people are just a bit too thick to appreciate that. And you're not "creepy". You're someone stuck in a perhaps non-ideal body situation, and those nerds need to stop being babies about it."

Ben reached out and wiped away some of Five's tears. More kept coming. 

"I like you, Five. You're intelligent, and you're brave and you a good person at heart. And I know Klaus likes you too, I'm practically in his head most of the time. And it breaks my heart to see you like this. Come on."

Ben opened his arms, hoping his body wouldn't flake out on him in this very important moment, and Five just fell on him, a bit tipsy and incredibly delicate. He held on to his dead brother for a while, trying to hold on to his words as well, to the notion that maybe someone didn't want him gone. 

Later, Ben helped Five to his bedroom, talking to him about books and trying to distract him from that turbulent night. 

And then. 

He started thinking about how the others were going to apologize to Five. Because yes, they would apologize. Colourfully. Ben was going to make sure of that. 


	3. Chapter 3

He hadn't let himself feel in a very long time.

When he did... when he did only dark, awful things appeared.

The main part of him was overwhelming pain. The end of the world was still in him, with its burning air and suffocating loneliness. He hurt when he woke up, he hurt when he tried to sleep. Which was not often. Even if his body had rejuvenated and he had less scars, his wounds were still in him. With him, in him. They still hurt.

So did the faces of those he killed. So did the faces of his dead siblings, mocking him. Sometimes it was hard to get out of there, to find any sort of light. For so long he had ignored the pain, physical and otherwise. To keep going.

But now that there was no mission, there was no threat...

His siblings all had their lives. Significant others, careers, plans.

He had nothing.

He didn't know how to socialize, he was in a wrong body for romance or work, and well, the idea of school, where he would be decades older than even some of the teachers... Laughable. Without the mission, without the inmiment threat to his or his family's survival, Five realised how little he had, he could be.

His equations felt meaningless. His insults empty. The coffee, stale.

He felt that he was unable to connect with the world, stuck in his ways, still alone.

(See, this was why he didn't like feeling things. Never led to anything good)

He was having trouble... adjusting. Not writing on walls. Not jumping at every noise. Not waking up in a cold sweat feeling the Handler's hands all over him not to see the ash the ash and the ruins not to...

Sometimes, feeling was a bit too much.

And it made him sad. He'd managed to save the world, got his family back after so long, left his assassin days behind... but still couldn't enjoy it. Why couldn't he? Was he too broken? Beyond any help?

The rain, at least, didn't judge him. The rain washed away everything, the blood on his hands, the ash still sticking to his skin, the bad choices. No one could see if he was crying in the rain, so he could do it freely.

He had closed his eyes, and was just letting the rain drench him. It was cold, he was cold, he was shivering. The rain kept falling.

"Five! What are you doing?"

He barely registered his sister's voice.

"Five!"

To say that Vanya was worried would be an understatement. There was something really sad in her brother's eyes lately, but she hadn't known how to approach him about it. He could jump away mid-conversation and he had never been one to talk about feelings. Not even when they were kids.

She would tell him about how inadequate she felt, how inferior. About how dad always made her feel like she was insignificant. About how much she envied them, because even if they were tired they were par of something. And Five listened. And was on her side. But he'd always been much more of a mystery.

No one had been too kind with him lately, she knew. Five was someone who pushed people away on principle, and he could sometimes be a bit cruel. He pushed people away, and the people got away.

But he had never been a bad person. And he'd always been on their side.

"Five, come here, you'll catch a cold!"

Vanya was about to google "can teenagers die of pneumonia" because who knew how long had Five been standing there and...

Trying to ignore the rain, Vanya came out, went to her brother. She'd hurt him too, she knew. She caused the cataclism that had made him be half of his life alone. She'd looked him in the eye with anger, even after knowing she'd been one of the people he'd really had. It stung.

They had all made mistakes, but thankfully, the world hadn't ended, which meant the mistakes could be fixed.

Vanya managed to get Five out of the rain. She didn't mention his tears, didn't ask if he was okay. He wasn't. She knew. They both did.

They didn't need to talk about it.

He was still shivering when they got in, his eyes puffy and red.

Vanya dried him carefully, his hair, his face.

She only wanted to tell him that things would get better, but knew that the words would sound impossible and cliched. So she just got him the pyjamas and when he got out and was still shivering.

A big warm, hug. He was still shivering, but she didn't care, just held him closer.

They'd all gone through a lot of shit, but had time to process life with other people, life beyond... awful things. Allison had her career and family.

Diego had his vigilante gig. She'd had her violin. Five had nothing but wasteland and hope - it couldn't be easy to process, to get back to life. But he had people now, and they needed to be there more, more for him. And more with him, more accepting of him despite his very many issues.

He deserved to have someone with him after all the horrors he’d been through.

She held onto him tighter. Ran a comforting hand, up and down, gently, quietly.

It as Five who broke the silence, with a small admission. 

"It hurts."

"I know. But you hold on, Five. It'll get better. I'll make sure of that."

The sound of the rain outside was pleasant.

Five listened to it, trying to get strength from it, from his sister's presence.

"Why don't we play something, huh? It's been too long since you last beat my ass in trivial." she said, with a small smile.

And maybe, if it was just the sound of rain, comfy pyjamas and a game...

He could allow himself to feel something.

And it wouldn't hurt.


	4. Chapter 4

She was supposed to be gone, The Handler. This time for good, for ever, this tinme she would not come back. Five had seen her die twice, and didn't even have to have her death in her conscience. She was supposed to be gone. She was supposed to have disappeared forever. 

And yet there she was, and Five was a fraction too slow, taken a back by seeing her face once again there, looking at him, to be able to react on time. She was more strong than she should be, and she'd taken Five by the neck, holding him up as he choked, skinny legs dangling. 

Five tried to free himself, but couldn't... How why... What had he missed? How was this even happening? What if she went after his siblings after? Five tried to scream to warn them but only gargled choked noises came out. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't scream, he couldn't really do anything. At long last, she'd won, after having so much power over him she'd got tired of her creation and was finally victorious, as he died. 

He stopped struggling so much. Less and less air was coming. Five couldn't that after all he'd done and he'd lived, her face was the last thing he would see. It didn't feel fair, it wasn't supposed to happen like this. Tears were welling up in his eyes as he tried to draw some final, painful breaths. Darkness was at his door, and then... 

Then he fell, to the floor, in a heap.

He'd been too busy trying to catch his breath to see Diego fight his attacker, or how he'd changed back into himself after being knocked out. So it wasn't the handler. It was just some shape shifter that had had a grudge against Five, and had used the image of someone he knew would scare him, slow him down. 

Diego tied him up, and then knelt down next to his brother. 

"Five?"

He was looking horrible, pale as death, neck red with handprints, tears in his eyes. He looked small and scared, and that was something that Five never allowed himself to do. He'd been big and functional and fearless all the time they'd known him, and that had been a choice of his. He knew he could be vulnerable around them, they all were, but Five probably didn't even let himself be vulnerable even when he was alone. 

So seeing him like this, broken up, small, teary and coughing and just... Being that sad and that hurt, well it broke Diego's heart. 

And he knew, in the back of his head, that something was not quite right about this situation. Five had been almost killed many many times, in ways probably more painful than this, and he'd managed to get the upper hand, shrug it off afterwards. Bigger, better attackers than this one had been less succesful. So what...

A memory to that Handler lady saying that Five and her had "a colourful history " came to his head, suddenly. Diego had thought that she meant they fought, but... There was always something unpleasant in her eye when she talked about Five or to Five, and Diego was just now wondering what exactly did that colourful history been about. If she'd... 

But that was not important now. He wouldn't go all hard and heavy on Five, about letting his guard down, about not telling them what she'd done, or if there were others out there that may want to hurt them too. That was his frist instinct, jut yelling at Five for making it harder to protect him. 

And yet... Five was coughing and trying to wipe the tears, and... 

Diego decided to let go of his anger for once and just held Five, embraced him with all his strength. He'd almost been killed again, by someone that clearly scared him and now... He put Five's head under his chin, ran his worn hands through his borther's smaller back. 

"It's okay, it will be okay." like a mantra, so he'd know, so that he wouldn't forget, so... He knew that he was safe, that he would always be safe while one of them was around. 

Five was crying, despite himself. He didn't want to be this weak, this easy to hurt, this damn emotional. It was emotions that almost got him killed, his shock and pain at having to see the Handler again, after all she'd done to him, it had... And he almost died, and Diego could have been killed by that shifter without him being able to do anything. 

"I'm sorry." the words escaped before he had time to realise what he'd said, before he had time to think them over. Diego was having none of that. Never letting go, he spoke in his most no-nonsense voice:

"You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for, Five. No matter what happens to us, we want to be there for you, all right? I want to, even when it's dangerous. You may be dangerous in general, but so am I."

Five buried himself further in Diego's chest. He would go back to his usual compsed self in a minute, he would go back to being this unbreakable man, better and bigger than everyone else around him. But after the shock of seeing her around, seemingly back from the dead... 

He needed a moment. He needed to breathe. And try to let go, to exorcise feelings that had been there the whole time, hidden, threatening to make their way it. Hurting him, no matter how much he tried to keep them in check. 

"It's okay, Five. You'll be okay. If they want to get to you, they'll have to go through me first."

He'd been alone for so long... Having no one to rely on by himself, and knowing that if he broke others would take advantage of his weakness, of his holes. He didnֲ¡t even remember what it was like to have someone on his side - two weeks, two months even couldn't compare to years, decades of isolation. 

Part of Five always feared that all that he'd built would fall apart again, that he suddenly would find himself alone, malleable, desperate and alone. And seeing the Handler again, after she was supposed to be gone forever...

Diego was... comforting. For all his shortcomings, Diego was someone that ws very loyal, and went along with him and his plans, even when he didn't fully understand them. He'd been dead, but now he wasn't. 

Five didn't let go, not yet. 

Diego didn't either. 

He... he would try to have a chat with Five, about possible enemies that may be around, about his fears, maybe try to find out what that woman had done, what the "colourful history" was, to be able to help better. 

But for now..... 

He would look after his brother, try and make his neck hurt less, let him know he was there. 

Five may not be the easiest person to approach and may not seem to need that much. 

But he was as human as the rest of them, and could be fragile too. 

Diego kept running his hand up and down, and he would continue, as much as Five allowed him. 

"It's okay, you're safe now."

Diego absolutely meant that. 

No one would hurt him like he'd been hurt again. 

They would have to get through him. 


	5. Chapter 5

Sometimes he appeared there, in her flat. She actually didn't mind, Five could be great company, and it was always seeing him back, and whole, as smart and snarky as ever.

Vanya had stopped questioning the whys or hows, hell, she had even stopped being surprised or startled. Sometimes Five just needed to be with someone who would be the least possible mean to him, or maybe someone... Well, someone a tiny bit less dramatic than the others (I mean, technically she'd blown up the moon which was very dramatic, but, you know in the day to day she could be pretty chill).

And so, she shouldn't have been surprised finding him there when she came back from rehearsal, just standing in her living room, in his usual uniform... But something was different this time, something was wrong. Usually he would have greeted her by now, and when he appeared there and no one was home he usually popped out, or if he was going to wait he made himself some coffee, picked up a book, look when the door was opened.

But he was just standing there, unmoving except for the weird shake of his hand, his breathing sound shallow and too fast.

Vanya didn't understand PTSD as well as Klaus did, but they've all had their fair share of trauma, and they knew how to recognize it. And they had never talked about it, the two of them - it never felt appropriate, it was felt like there was something to better to do to get him out, maybe distract him with something, talk about something funny one of the others had done...

"Five? Are you there? Can you hear me?"

It took a bit, but something changed, again. Vanya had been approaching slowly, not wanting to spook him even further and then, suddenly, the hands stopped shaking, Five looked around, saw her,

"Vanya?"

He'd come back, he was back, but his voice was broken and he was so pale and so small and...

She hugged him, because she could tell that it was what he needed right now, to make sure that there was someone else alive beside himself, to make sure that she was safe, to have something that helped him anchor himself to the reality they were living now. The one where they were both alive, and the moon still shone.

He needed it, but she'd needed it as well. For so long, they'd been running around the subject, not talking about all the crap that had happened to them in between when they were kids and now, there had been ends of the world to think about! Siblings to convince to help! Revelations to be had!

But.... it had been her that had caused the first apocalypse, the one that had created the hell world he'd lived on for practically all of his life. It was because of her that he hadn't had a single soul to talk with for decades, because of her that he'd struggled to even feed himself because of her that he had scars none of them would see, but that were always going to be there.

She held him tighter, because he was holding on too, and damn she wanted to make sure he could feel, just how much she cared, she wanted him to be as all right as possible, how incredibly important he was and had always been for her, how much she'd missed him, how much she wanted him to keep coming back here, to just talk, or listen to the violin, or badmouth the others, or just watch bad tv.

She needed him to feel all that - he'd been there for her when she'd been alone, and she...

Finally, Five breathed, and the hug ended.

"I'm sorry, I..."

"No, Five." time had come to face the truth, to be honest with herself. She looked at him, seriously, deeply, in the eyes. "I am sorry. I created a world of horror that you were trapped in for nearly all your life and when you came to me.... I told you that maybe you had imagined it. And that's possibly the one thing that hurts the most to someone who has been through something like that. To be told that maybe you imagined - that had to hurt so much, and I... You came to me, because you trusted me, and I hurt you. And I... I hate that I did that. And I think about it every day, if I could take anything back, really..."

"It's... it's fine, Vanya."

"No, it isn't!" it had never been fine. "You found out that I was the cause of the apocalypse, the cause of all your years of pain and solitude and still you saved my life, at the risk of your own, you... Gave me Sissy and Harlan and then you were so kind to me, I... You have always been an incredible brother to me, and I was a shitty sister."

"Just..."

"Don't try to minimize it, either. It was fucked up, Five. You came back and instead of asking if you were okay and telling you about how much I missed you I called you weird and told you that maybe you'd invented most of your life. That... place hurt you, Five, and so did I. Will you give me a chance to make things better? Be a better sister this time around?"

Those very expressive eyes of his looked kind, and happy and Vanya wondered how could she deserve being the sister of someone as special and strong as Five.

"Of course."

A small smile.

Another hug, this time less tense, more easy, a bit less intense but more soft.

"Why don't you start with some coffee, huh?"

She laughed.

"Sure. And Five.... Talk to me, about the apocalypse if you want to, or need. Don't stop yourself because you think it'll make me guilty, or because I was a fucking idiot the first time. I want to fix things, yes? I want this to be a safe place you, for all the many layers of you, no matter what."

Five liked the sound of that.

"Thanks, Vanya, I appreciate it."

"Coffee's coming!"

And not just coffee.

Better times, for the both of them, were also coming.


	6. Chapter 6

She was squeezing the life out of him. She needed to show her uncle Five just how intensely she cared, and how much she wanted to be there for him, and with him.

"You really don't need to do this, Claire." he said, in quite a soft tone.

Maybe she didn't need to, but she wanted to. Claire knew that this was the anniversary of the day that uncle Five had gone missing from his home when he was a kid, the day that he had landed in that horrible place where he spent a lot of years, and that no matter what he said and how many times he repeated that he was fine, it had to be difficult for him.

She was always sadder and more anxious around the time of year her parents split up, when there were all those big fights, and the lawyers and so much mean people. And although she knew that just because it had happened once it didn't need to happen again, she was always a bit more afraid around that time of year that something bad would happen, that her mom would be taken again.

And it had to be worse for uncle Five, because he'd been so long alone in that place, he hadn't just lost his mom, he lost his entire family. He'd only managed to come back a couple of years ago after very very long by himself and Claire knew that he still had some...issues.

Nightmares, and an extra-version of nightmares called night terrors. Something called flashback where it felt like he was trapped in that bad place where he'd been again. (This also happened to uncle Klaus. Her uncles had been through some very bad things). And he had a lot of scars, too. (She'd been complaining about a scratch she got in school, and that she was afraid to it would leave a mark. Five asked her what was wrong with having marks and told her the story of the scar on his gut, that she'd seen on pool days. A explosion, shrapnel, saving the world. Suddenly having scars wasn't such a problem - it was badass.) (Her uncle Diego also had a lot of scars. Her uncles and aunt were all broken in different places) (She still loved them, cracks and all).

Uncle Five tried to be his most normal self when he was with her, but she liked it best when he went off talking about physics and all the little things that made up time and space. She was tired of hearing that girls were supposed to be pretty and not smart . she would be as pretty as her mom and as smart as her uncle Five, and they would go on adventures and save the world.

The ghost of uncle Ben soon joined, too. Asked if there was place for one more, and although they couldn't really touch him they did feel something else... a welcomed, somehow familiar coolness. She'd only spoken to uncle Ben a couple of times, but he seemed real nice. And hey, the more, the merrier.

"Are we compensating for all them years he got no hugs?" Uncle Klaus said, appearing out of thin air. "Or is this some sort of shock therapy to make him more capable of accepting affection? Because I'm in for both. Can I join?"

Uncle Five rolled his eyes (endearingly) (affectionately) and accepted.

"Fineeeee."

Some people thought that uncle Five was going to be just rude and have no patience with her, or with any kid. Those people (idiots) didn't understand just how much her uncle cared, and couldn't past the arrogance and into his big heart and oh-so-very-caring soul.

Claire knew, and understood, that sometimes Five didn't want to around the others, that sometimes he lashed, was mean - that it was hard for him, being nice. She got it, because they all had better and worse moments, even her mom and dad, and when you had been through a lot of bad moments that could make you a bit more.... angry. And sometimes that anger came out, and sometimes it was hard to get rid of it.

But the fact that he was sometimes rude didn't mean that he didn't need or deserve some caring, some hugs. It didn't mean that he didn't want them, either. It just meant that he had bad moments, like she did sometimes, that he had wounds, and scars.

But to heal a wound you need to look after it, clean it, carefully put some cream on it or something, and then put a nice band aid on it so it heals better. And hugs were the band-aids for the broken parts of her uncle, she was convinced, and she was going to hug him every day if she needed to. She would be there, and so would the others.

So the he would feel better. So that he would heal, little by little, step by step, until the broken parts were just marks, that showed what he'd been through, but didn't hurt any more.

And so she was there, sandwiched in between her uncles, comfy and warm and glad to see the little smile in her uncle's youthful but tired face.

She, and her mom and uncles and aunt, were going to make it better, so that the wounds and the pain were a thing of the past.

Little by little, step by step.

Hug by hug.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> You know you want to commenttt


End file.
